


For Want of Longing

by Southernsassafrastea



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southernsassafrastea/pseuds/Southernsassafrastea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When news of Hawke's death at Adamant reaches Aveline, she leaves Kirkwall to travel to Skyhold as an offered blade. Hoping against hope that Hawke will stumble out of one of the Rifts the Inquisitor is closing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Want of Longing

Her breath came in pants, each one tripping its way over the exhale before. Had it really been a year? They’d written each other every week, letters that were stoic things. She’d write of hills so green you’d think they were painted and of rifts and demons. He’d write of home, concrete streets and how the guard was doing. 

They never wrote of the longing, never wrote words of sleeping and reaching out for the other… only to wake up alone. They never wrote of love, signing letters with the simple your husband or your wife. It was as if they knew the burden would be too great if given the reality of paper. 

But he was here… finding her training recruits and building their skills like she would the guard of Kirkwall. Donnic didn’t speak more than her name, a low rumble but with that Free Marches dialect she dreamed of at night.   
Sword sheaved, shield dropped, Aveline raced across the yard too caught up in the joy of her husband and lover for the confused looks to register. He caught her. He always did and any words that might have been spoken, any questions for his presence at Skyhold were lost in a kiss that had been a year coming. 

When had they gotten alone? Had she pulled him into the room given to her, the one that had sat empty most nights while she prowled the battlements thinking of those she lost, of those she missed? Did it matter?   
Gauntlets hit the floor, clattering as metal scraped against stone. Her Faulds followed, greaves, cuirass as well until little by little Donnic had divested her of every layer. His brown eyes narrowed as he pulled off traveling gloves and gently traced. Her cheeks, her shoulders, lingering and touching every scar on freckled skin, as if to make sure she was whole. 

Aveline quivered. It had been a year without him and she ached, ached and wanted so that even these touches were nearly too much. 

“Husband” 

“Wife,” Donnic replied dropping to his knees and burying his face against her stomach. There was a heaving gasp, followed by the sounds of a strong man, quietly going to pieces. “I thought you died. No word in a month, and I thought… I thought… oh Aveline I thought you were dead.” 

Her hands dropped to his head, threading through brown hair just starting to turn grey. It was a benediction of sorts, his prayer and her blessing of being whole, alive and in his arms.   
“I was in the Arbor Wilds, cleaning up the last of Corypheus’s forces. I wrote, but there was no unofficial mail going out.” 

Donnic held her, her strong husband needing that visceral reminder that this wasn’t a dream. He held firm until sobs quieted and slowly the hand that clutched her back moved to smooth down pale freckled thighs. She was a beautiful sight, his Aveline. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t leave again without her. Kirkwall be damned, this was his wife. She wouldn’t face anymore battles alone. 

She inhaled sharply at the feel of calloused fingers pressing into the sensitive skin behind her knee. Maker it had been so long since feeling his touch. 

He shifted away from her, one hand keeping her still while the other pulled at the ties of his shirt. It gave way with a harsh jerk and he moved closer, bare skin of his chest against her knees and lips pressing against the push of her hip bones. 

“Donnic!” It was said on a half gasp. They’d been away for a year; this wasn’t the time for slow rediscovery. She needed, she needed and he was content to meander when everything in her screamed for a race. 

Hands shook, tugging on his hair, harder than she meant. “Up, up now… I need you.” 

It had to be blasphemous, to prefer her voice needy in want to that of the Chant, to feel like the Maker himself, when he pushed her back – neatly tripping Aveline so that she sprawled across the bed. When she would have moved away, would have given him space to join her, he laughed., low vibrations of sounds before pulling her legs to him. 

“You have me.” He replied before lowering his head. 

Aveline had always assumed that the fireworks and sparks people spoke of when making love were simple fancies. Exaggerations meant to stimulate the mind and sell books, after all her first marriage had been two teenagers fumbling and then two lovers with scarcely a night together everything three months. It hadn’t been conducive to love making.   
But with Donnic… maybe it was being older. Maybe it was just him wrecking her completely. Muscles strong enough to protect the people who depended on her went lax. That sharp brain that read troop movements and summed up strategies in an instance, nothing but mush. All because of him. 

Her breath shuddered out, heels kicking helplessly against the side of the bed. He didn’t stop. Hands and mouth kept pressing and pushing her until Aveline’s body tightened like a bow before pleasure snapped and she sank boneless into the mattress. 

He levered up then, hands quickly pulling breeches and small clothes until naked as her, Donnic sank onto the bed as well.   
“I want, I need to touch you.” Aveline started, moving to scrape her nails gently down his chest. 

He caught them and pressed knuckles to his lips. “Next time, I’m not going anywhere and I very much want to make love to my wife.” 

Long slow strokes, breaths mingling with a faint aha sound as slowly, tirelessly Donnic took them both. His brow beaded with the sweat from holding back. He wanted to cover like some sort of wild animal, but he needed to see the flush across her skin, trembles shaking her chest, and those faint huffs of breath that ended on a moan of his name. 

It couldn’t last. Already he was feeling that familiar clutch and smooth strokes became stuttered as he buried his face in her hair and took Aveline with him. 

The sun still shone. Aveline could see the light of it reflected in the mosaic of the window. She had never been comfortable sleeping under that eye. Made her feel watched, though with Donnic’s naked form draped across her and his soft snores being the only sound in the room… let the eye of Inquisition watch. 

She had her husband back. 

“So you’ll stay then?” 

“Hmmm…” the words were slurred as Donnic shifted and rose up on an elbow. He blinked and sniffed before focusing steady brown eyes. “Yes, you won’t leave this place until you find out if Hawke’s… if you aren’t leaving, then neither am I, and” he continued with a yawn. “Andraste be damned if I’m letting you run into the Fade without me. Takes more than one shield to build a wall.”


End file.
